“I find often people wait to order until I order,” says David Kirsch. “And then I love upsetting them. Sometimes I’ll order a cheesburger and macaroni and cheese.” Sadist!

IT’S 9 p.m. on a Monday night. I’m ordering up my second cocktail. The word ‘diet” is obviously nowhere near my thoughts. Until, that is, I glance over my shoulder mid-conversation with designer Marc Bouwer, and see David Kirsch – the so-called ‘celebrity trainer” to a host of models, CEOs and notables like Ivana Trump.

I freeze.

‘I’m watching you!” Kirsch says.

I turn red.

You see, it was only five days before that Kirsch and I met over a dinner, during which I promised him that I’d begin to tend to my diet. I’d cut down on carbohydrates. Stop eating bread.

We shook on it.

And now he catches me – red-handed – chowing down in Carb City. Kirsch shakes his head. ‘Just close your eyes and enjoy,” he says.

Such are the perils of having a trainer who eats high on the social food chain.

*

I am the first person to admit that I don’t take care of myself. I am an exercise-phobe. I smoke. My diet is only a few packs of Ramen noodles short of terrible.

So, I was hesitant to take the assignment to interview David Kirsch, 38, the man famous for his penchant for keeping a healthy upper-hand by actually (MD+IT)dining (MD-IT)with his clients.

The plan is for us to go to dinner and let him criticize my horrible menu choices.

*

I show up at Kirsch’s gym, the Madison Square Club, at 9 p.m. on a Wednesday night. We scoot across the park to 11 Madison Park, a restaurant located in an old bank.

Before we can even order, the maitre d’ sets a plate of olive paste and goat cheese appetizers in the middle of the table.

Kirsch tells me: ‘You really should try one – they’re great.”

What?

At least it seems Kirsch is not of the school of deprivation.

He questions me about my current (un)health plan.

Well, I don’t eat at all until about 2 o’clock …

‘Oh my God!”

… and I start out the day with about three cups of coffee at home, and then have another when I get to work.

‘And you smoke,” Kirsch notes. ‘So you’re having the breakfast of champions: caffeine and cigarettes.” He shakes his head.

I go on to describe lunch – tuna salad on toasted wheat with lettuce, tomato and mustard. with pretzels or light chips. Then, at about 4 each afternoon, another large coffee. That’s all I have – save a mini Snickers bar or Butterfinger from the candy basket at the office.

‘What do you do for dinner?”

I generally don’t eat until about 10, at which time I usually order in Chinese or Mexican or – when I’m feeling thrifty – whip up a bowl of pasta or rice and beans.

‘Do you exercise?”

Not unless you count the two blocks I walk twice a day to and from the subway.

‘You hate exercise, don’t you?”

Pretty much.

‘Alright,” he says. ‘Are we going to change that now?”

Yes!

Wait – who said that?

*

Kirsch says I’m not the only one on whom he has an instantly energizing effect.

‘I don’t have one client who will not, within five minutes of walking in the door, confess to me what they did the night or day before,” he says, a little amazed. ‘They walk in and go ‘Alright, I had mashed potatoes,’ or ‘You’re not going to believe how much I drank last night.’ And I have to say either, ‘You’re right: That’s terrible’ or ‘It’s OK: We’ll deal with it.”’

Because slipping up is easy, Kirsch often says the latter.

It’s time for the hard part of the evening – ordering.

Kirsch picks my mini tape recorder up from the table. ‘No bread, no butter,” he says, speaking directly into the mic.

He explains: ‘The things I would try to eliminate from this menu are things that are sauteed or pan roasted. It’s not that they’re unhealthy, but the reality is they’re really fried. If the fish is fresh and good, have it broiled, baked or grilled.”

There are certain words that immediately set him off – custard for instance. ‘Rich. Probably has lots of butter in it.” Same goes for sweetbreads, organ meats, pigs feet and fois gras, as well as root vegetables (‘Stay away from them at night: They have too much sugar.”).

I order first: To start, I’ll have greens with a nice vinaigrette.

‘Get it on the side.”

OK … and the broiled snapper.

‘Grilled.”

Grilled it is.

Kirsch orders a tuna appetizer – sans oil – and the snapper, ‘grilled, with herbs and lemon.”

Before he took up criticizing people’s dinners as a full-time job, the Long Island-born Kirsch was a lawyer. Nine years ago, after five years as a litigator, he had a revelation: ‘I remember waking up one day with my upteenth migraine and thinking ‘I’m not liking this anymore. I’m not having fun.’ ”

*

In 1991, he made his new career choice offical by opening the Madison Square Club. He started as the only employee and quickly built up a client list of 30; in one year, by word-of-mouth (he’s never given an interview until this one), the list grew to 150. He hired added an additional seven trainers and a staff of employees. He is now up to 265 clients.

‘One body, one at a time” is his business motto – and this goes for the gym as well as the dining room.

*

‘I befriend most of my clients and I like to go out with them,” he says. ‘I like to socialize with them: They’re interesting. But it also helps me do what I do. It’s one thing for you to tell me, ‘I don’t know why I’m not losing weight: I eat healthily, I don’t eat any sweets at night.’ And it’s another thing for me to actually see you at night.”

What’s his dinner table strategy? ‘I very quietly observe [my clients].”

And we in turn are mesmerised by him.

Kirsch is honest, utterly charming (he’s a Capricorn; I’m a Taurus: this is a trainer/trainee match made in heaven), and an entertaining story teller.

‘I like to think they like my company,” he says, smiling, of his weekly client/dinner dates. ‘But I find often people wait to order until I order. And then I love upsetting them. Sometimes I’ll order a cheeseburger and macaroni and cheese.”

Sadist.

Our main course plates have been eaten clean – and the bread basket is still intact. Amazing. The waiter brings the final menu.

‘Well, it’s dessert time young lady.”

Cookie plate, chocolate tarte, coffee almond creme brule …

‘Given the choice, what would you eat,” Kirsch asks. ‘And I’m leading you down the garden path …”

I tell him I would ordinarily get the creme brule. But tonight, I’ll just finish my water, thank you.

David Kirsch just smiles.

*

My co-worker told me on Monday that I was glowing. Since I’m mateless at the moment, I must credit this emanation to the 10 a.m. (on a Sunday!) exercise ‘boot camp,” which is Kirsch’s cute name for one of his hour-long group cardio and stretch. I was promised that I would be able to keep up; I did … barely. But today – as I was yesterday, and I’m quite sure I will be tomorrow and the day after that – I’m discovering aches in places I never knew I had muscles.

Still, I do feel pretty inspired. I’ve started eating breakfast again – at Kirsch’s advice, of course. I’ve also dusted off my steamer and gotten to know the produce section of my corner market. Asparagus is in season and life is good.

A week ago I never thought I’d say that.